


when in doubt, insult alistair

by periferal



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Multi, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-06 23:32:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17354744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/periferal/pseuds/periferal
Summary: Alistair is awkward and virginal, Morrigan is amused, and Alim Surana has been commanded not to say anything.They have fun.





	when in doubt, insult alistair

**Author's Note:**

> My original intent was to write a version of this chapter featuring a female Surana. Instead, since that would involve just recycling the same story, I'll be alternating encounters between the "male" Surana universe (see, this fic) and the "female" Surana universe.
> 
> edit: change of plans, we're still doing that, as soon as the author (me) figures out how the fuck dialogue works

That, Alistair thought as he lay in his tent, armor put to one side for the day, had been an awkward conversation.

He was not sure what he had expected to happen. Perhaps, he thought, he had assumed Surana would confess to similar inexperience, and the two could commiserate over opposite but similarly cloistered lifestyles, despite Surana’s now steady affair with Morrigan. Instead, he had found himself stumblingly confessing he was a virgin to an elven mage who, while not vastly more experienced than he, had obviously carried on more than one dalliance with his fellow apprentices.

“Apparently, repression is bad for focus,” Surana had continued, laughing not at Alistair but at the topic itself. “So we all fumbled around with each other, those of us who were interested in that sort of thing. It’s what made Jowan weird, him and his girlfriend both—they were dedicated to each other specifically, and from pretty early on.”

“What, so for the rest of you it was some kind of free-wheeling orgy?” Alistair had asked, quite uncertain what answer would be worse.

“For some people sure,” the elf had said, shrugging vaguely. “I focused mainly on my studies, and well, I’m here now, but there’s no vow of celibacy for a mage, even a circle one.”

 _That you’re absolutely stunning must’ve helped_ , Alistair had thought but did not say. That was the sort of sentence that conjured the confused dreams Alistair had involving what bits of Surana he had seen by accident ever since their rescue from Ostagar.

Any further conversation on the subject had been interrupted by Morrigan’s arrival, and now, here Alistair was, in his tent, brooding on the subject. It wasn’t as though being a virgin bothered him too much. Sure, he felt attracted to people, but first there was the Templars, and then the Grey Wardens, and he had never—well he had almost never met anyone that it seemed worth doing with, and then the years had passed, and now here he was, in a camp surrounded by gorgeous elves and humans of all sorts.

The dreams had gotten weirder and included more people.

“Are you sleeping, or would you be willing to talk?” a voice called from outside his tent. Alistair groaned when he recognized Morrigan’s voice.

“What do you want?” he demanded. He could have just stayed in his tent—Morrigan was weird, but not so weird as to wander into his space uninvited—but he found himself standing, arms crossed, in front of her instead.

 “Well,” Morrigan said. “I came all the way over here to mock you for that conversation I overheard, but now that I’m here I just want to see ****Surana fuck you in the mouth. **  
**

Alistair felt his mind stutter to a halt at her words. She was mocking him, certainly, though in an even more explicit way than was her usual style, and he felt a surge of regret for ever admitting anything to Surana at all.

“Oh, do grow up,” Morrigan snapped. “If I wished simply to mock you, I would have called you a prude and other, more creative insults, and never mentioned Surana at all. Instead, I have all but invited you into our bed, for you are, for all your faults, quite handsome.”

“I—what?” Alistair said, still unsure how to react.

Morrigan sighed. Grabbing both sides of his head, she kissed him roughly, not quite hard enough to bruise but enough to leave an impression. “Is that sufficient statement of my intentions?” she asked. “You have a pretty mouth, which I wish to see put to good use, and I can only presume your cock is perfectly acceptable.” She quirked an eyebrow. “Have I broken you then?”

Alistair coughed, just to see if he could still make sound. “No, no,” he said, finally, his thoughts slowly unscrambling themselves. “I am just surprised. You hate me, I am sure.”

“I do not hate you so much as I find you disappointing,” Morrigan said. “You believe in a useless god and side with a broken religion which cast you out like dirt, and you go around with your blond hair and blue eyes and you’ve never even used them properly.” She made a disgusted noise. “And I find myself forced to repeat the objective fact that you are handsome, something which comes as a shock to no one; Kings fuck pretty women to make their bastards, after all.”

“And so, your intention is to… correct what you consider is an oversight?” Alistair asked. He should not have been seriously considering this proposition of Morrigan’s, and _yet_.

“Of course,” Morrigan answered. “You may be handsome, but our dearest Grey Warden is even more so. I am delighted merely thinking of what shall be done to you.”

“What if,” Alistair asked, “I am not so amenable to taking orders?” He probably should have said this with more conviction, that is to say, any conviction at all.

Morrigan, of course, saw right through it all. “All you want, Alistair, is for someone to tell you what to do, and to tell you how good you are when you do it.” She smirked as she said this. “It’s frankly exhausting, but ought to be quite pleasurable under the right circumstances.”

“Is this—is this something you want _now_ ,” Alistair asked.

“No,” Morrigan said. “Tis still daylight after all. But should you be amenable, as I am sure you are, come to my tent at sundown. I am certain you shall enjoy yourself, and even if you prove a disappointment, Surana is rather excellent with his tongue.  

\--

Alistair, despite, or because of, his misgivings, found himself standing by the fire Morrigan always built for herself as the last rays of sun disappeared beneath the horizon.

“Surana is already in my tent,” Morrigan said, noticing Alistair noticing the elf’s absence. “I have asked him to wait until a decision has been made.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Alistair said. He sounded about as nervous as he felt, he thought.

He’d found himself taking himself in hand at the idea of what Morrigan had proposed, and he realized he might as well take her up on it.

“You look as though if I say boo you’ll flee back to your tent,” Morrigan said. “I like my men terrified, but not so terrified they think me monstrous after.”

“What happens if I refuse?” Alistair asked.

Morrigan shrugged. “I go into my tent, and you go into yours, and I have fun by magical light, and you spend some quality time with your hand in the dark, I imagine,” she said.

“Alright,” Alistair said, inhaling deeply. “Do your worst.”

“Excellent,” Morrigan. “I strongly suspect you shall regret saying _worst_ , but we shall see.”

-

Alistair was not sure what he had expected to find, but somehow it had not been a naked, kneeling Surana, bathed in a sourceless, and therefore magical, blue light. Of course, kneeling made sense, but…

Oh.

“This cannot be the first time you’ve seen another cock,” Morrigan said.

“Certainly—certainly the first time in this context,” Alistair said, only then realizing he had been staring. He hadn’t been staring just at that, either, but at the plane of Surana’s stomach, at his smooth, nearly-hairless chest, at his dark hair contrasting with his pale skin. Alistair realized distantly that he had never seen a naked elf before.

“Don’t be afraid,” Morrigan said. He felt, more than saw, her begin to work at the bindings of his trousers. “You’ll be just as naked soon enough.”

“That’s not exactly comforting,” Alistair said. He would have said more, but Morrigan clamped her hand over his mouth.

“Shh,” she said. “No talking. You’ll ruin everything.”

Surana must have been given a similar command then, as the usually talkative elf had been absolutely silent throughout the brief interaction.

At some point, he tried to help Morrigan remove his clothes, but she batted his hands away. “I enjoy this,” she said, even as it was somewhat awkward in the cramped space.

Her commands, if he could call them that yet, had not been as… extreme as he might have feared (wanted?) but following along without question was good.

“Oh, dear,” Morrigan said. “You’re thinking of your days as a Templar, aren’t you?” She smiled. “Fair enough, I suppose, although I doubt I’ll be giving similar commands to your old officers.”

“You’d be surprised,” Alistair said, forgetting for a moment he was not supposed to talk.

“I ought to whip you for that,” Morrigan said, smiling. “I’m sure that will be familiar enough.”

Alistair’s voice died in his throat, and for a moment he felt somewhat stuck.

“Oh, do not worry,” Morrigan continued. “The lash shall wait until you have something resembling experience. Now! To what I promised. Surana?”

Again, a mix of relief and disappointment.

The elf raised his head.

“Fuck Alistair in his unfairly pretty mouth, would you? Alistair?”

The templar looked up at her.

“On your hands and knees, then, and open your mouth.”

“What am I supposed to do then?”

Morrigan sighed.

“Absolutely nothing,” she said. “Well,” she added thoughtfully. “Try to keep your teeth out of the way. And do stay quiet, or I might start thinking you’re doing this on purpose.”

From where he was, Alistair couldn’t see how exactly Surana managed to situate himself, but obviously he managed, for soon after he opened his mouth it was filled with Surana’s cock.

Having never done this before, at first Alistair was mainly concerned with what Morrigan said—keep his teeth out of the way and trying not to choke. At some point, his eyes fell shut, and he realized, in a sort of gradual way, that he was enjoying this—even the taste of Surana’s pre-cum, while not exactly good, just added to it.

He would have to actually figure out how to give head, some distant part of him decided.

Around that time, the pace of Surana’s thrusts quickened, and he went from utterly silent to making little strangled gasping noises every few seconds. At first, Alistair assumed he was the one gripping him by his hair, but he quickly realized that the hands were Morrigan’s. She was keeping him still.

Surana came with a slightly less strangled noise, and Alistair found himself spitting up cum on the floor of Morrigan’s tent, a bruised feeling in his mouth and an even stranger feeling in his jaw.

“Go, sit,” Morrigan said. “Your obedience does not change your previous behavior.”

Alistair desperately wanted to take himself in hand, bring himself off with the memory fresh in his mind, but he imagined Morrigan would not be pleased at the attempt.

“Be grateful we’re both mages,” Morrigan said. “Or I would make you lick that back up again. Next time, do try to swallow.”

Alistair opened his mouth to say something but remembered just in time. Morrigan must have noticed, for she said, “Good, good, you’re learning. Now—you’ve obviously been enjoying yourself.” He felt her crouch down beside him. “Kneel.”

She gripped the base of his shaft. “Does the idea of watching me harm Surana bring you pleasure?”

He stared at her, trying not to let his eyes drift shut again. Did she wish for him to talk?

“You may speak,” she said. She seemed content to occasionally move her hand upwards slightly, never giving quite enough stimulation.

“Yes,” he said. “I think. It’s hard to—”

“This with my hand on your cock? Yes, that would make things difficult. Do try, however, I find the answer most important to my needs.”

“Yes,” Alistair repeated.

Morrigan removed her hand. “Lie back,” she said.

Alistair groaned wordlessly but obeyed. Morrigan pressed his hand down into the ground by the wrists, and he realized very suddenly that she was not wearing anything under her dress. He was quickly all the way inside her.

“Mm,” she said. “I remember, now, why I used to enjoy luring templars into the woods so. It’s too bad you’re so inexperienced—this shall not last very long.”

She was right, of course, and Alistair shuddered himself to pieces inside her with embarrassing speed. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, feeling his face reddening. He hoped her earlier permission to speak held over to the present moment.

To his surprise, she smiled and pressed an oddly sweet kiss to his mouth as she disentangled herself. “Not to worry,” she said. “You were as good as could be expected for a first time. Have we scared you off?”

He shook his head.

“Excellent,” she said. “Now, come here.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m no Wynne, but I know a small amount of healing.”

His mouth didn’t look that bad, did it? He still didn’t mood.

“If you’ve broken my templar—” Surana said. It was the first time Alistair had heard him speak that evening, and it was startling.

“I’m just not sure what there is to heal,” Alistair.

“Your mouth, for one,” Morrigan said. “You had no idea what you were doing, so it seems best just to try and ward of any future aches. Come here.”

Finally, Alistair complied. Morrigan put a hand on his cheek in an oddly tender gesture. “There,” she said. “How do you feel?”

“Nervous,” he said. “You’re being nice.”

Morrigan laughed. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll be crueler next time.”

“You definitely didn’t do your worst,” Alistair said.

She raised an eyebrow. “That is true,” she said. “I shall have to remedy that.”


End file.
